


Observation

by InkkEmulsion



Series: Apex Legends [7]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Don't Judge Me, I love this robot bastard, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Many Deaths, Much blood and gore, Torture, have you heard his in game lines?, he's tsundere i swear, it's dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:48:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22639531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkkEmulsion/pseuds/InkkEmulsion
Summary: The new guy is... Something.You wish he wouldn't be so fascinated with you though.
Relationships: Revenant x Reader
Series: Apex Legends [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1338685
Comments: 2
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A request from tumblr that got out of hand. The request was;
> 
> Revenant is absolutely FASCINATED with how his human eats and is caught staring, has to quickly make a back up plan that isn't him outright saying he thinks the way they enjoy food is cute and bc he looooves theeeem. Cue his tsundere ass trying to cough up an excuse that bubbles down to "Yeah you're cute or whatever go fuck urself"
> 
> I of course, added my own spin on it and made it conform to Revenant's character. This fic is dark as fuck at one point. Please beware!

Things had changed.

Many things had changed in general actually, ever since joining the Apex Games, but after coming under the scrutiny of a particular murder obsessed robot (by accident no less) things had changed more than usual and not quite for the better. Since the destruction of Kings Canyon (poor Wattson, you still remember comforting her after that) many new contestants had joined for less than clear reasoning or methods. Crypto was one thing, acting aloof but still polite with his soft tones and passive replies but the new one- Revenant? He was something else entirely. Standoffish, unhinged, and ready to murder not only the opposing teams but you as well. Unfortunately you’d been on the receiving end of his ire for awhile for reasons unknown up until you’d outright thrashed him in a game, putting his insufferable pride finally where it belonged. 

Until that match you’d been on his side, adjusting to his aggressive style of play as his thirst for rivers of blood never seemed to cease. 

You thought perhaps it was because of your quiet nature, never willing to speak up and ‘establish boundaries’ as some of the others had tried verbally and so the assassin saw you as some form of a target much like he did with Pathfinder. Easy to pick off, too docile to throw back his bitter satire. Maybe he just enjoyed someone to bully?

Then the team randomiser threw you onto a wildcard of a squad one particular match, the dropships platforms beginning to lower as the biting cold below began to whisk through bringing with it fragments of ash and snow from the recent increase in volcanic activity. Wattson was a nice surprise, her smile mirrored back at her as you both stepped down while Octane joined you a second later, already jogging in place as the cold began to sting at his skin. “Ready to win?” Octane grins behind his mask, suppressing a full body shudder he tends to do right before he jumps. 

“Oui! They don’t stand a chance against my fences!” Wattson behind you giggles, rubbing her hands together in eagerness and excitement, clearly looking forwards to the chaos as well- you suspected she had a crush on the speedster, Octane however had yet to clock on to it being as dense as he is but you can’t help but smile absently despite yourself. You zone out from their banter as Wattson speaks over the announcer occasionally laughing or nodding when prompted, the electrician still exchanging banter with Octane as the sensation of being watched prickling at the base of your neck too much to ignore. Shifting slowly on one foot you glance around quickly map still open on your display, only to see a glimmer of amber optics staring right back as the platform finishes moving covered by a silhouette of scarlet and white.

Revenant. 

Just barely visible on the opposite side of the ship’s belly but you catch him looking, staring at you intently as though he was waiting for you to notice. Revenant paces slowly across his platform like a predator knowing he had your full attention, all the while drawing a line across where his throat would have been with his thumb. You knew what it meant; he took great delight in it every match to single out somebody in particular. It meant you were personally marked for death. 

Nobody sees it but you in the blur of activity so when Revenant vanishes below into Skyhook with a chilling laugh that you know was meant for you, the rest of his squad fumbles to catch up confused and slightly offput. You try not to act unusual as the rest of your team finally chose a place to land. Together you make the decent with a pit of dread beginning to form at the bottom of your stomach, knowing full well that a skull faced killer was on his way towards you despite all of the distance and obstacles between. You try to ignore the impending sense of doom and instead focus on the jump, smiling as Octane started snapping pictures mid air.

\--

“Argh! I’m down!” Octane shouts over the comm link, somewhere in the building over, having taken a brief detour on his way over to you and Wattson to try and collect some more syringes. Both you and he were hurting for some meds and without them it was only a matter of time before a stronger team knocked you from the competition. The sound of sniper fire makes you grit your teeth, turning to your currently present teammate. With only white armor it would be a stretch to attempt a rescue mission but with luck they were also not so lucky with looting.

“Think you can set this place up to be a death trap? I’ll need it to retreat to if I get third partied.” You ask to Wattson, already hurrying out of the room and to the first floor of the building. From here you could smell the acrid lava and smoke of the fractured city, making your lungs burn from the proximity. She only nods, a look of gleeful determination filling her eyes as she got to work. 

“Of course! Once I’m done ‘ere, I will be with you as backup!”

You smile back with a chuckle, relieved to have someone you worked well with on your team for more reasons than one. If anyone was the best at defending, it was most definitely her. Not looking back you could already hear the sound of fences being positioned, the electric currents buzzing away as you dashed through the alleyways of the northern tip of the Capital City. Distant gunfire echoed throughout the space but you already knew where the sniper fire had come from, a team well and truly positioned at the top of the construction site. The only one still standing after the planet harvester from Hammond Robotics had accidentally disrupted the island’s delicate tectonic mass and caused a fissure to open up and swallow part of the city whole. Personally you were glad it was gone. 

Octane for once wasn’t babbling useless information, focusing on letting his squad come to the rescue and relaying instructions or notes that he deemed useful at the time. Apparently his training with Bangalore outside of matches had improved his in ring shenanigans after all? Half of the way there you decide to open comms to the speedster, dashing from shadow to shadow and avoiding detection.

“Anyone upstairs?” You probe as you enter, eyes and ears sharp for anything that could mean trouble. Strangely though, Octane wasn’t answering. His banner hadn’t entered retrieval mode yet and he was still plenty of time left on the bleed out so the sudden silence from the otherwise boisterous individual was quite strange. No sound was coming from upstairs either so proceeding with caution you walk up the stairs carefully, gun at the ready and crouching to avoid making noise of your own. Doing a quick sweep the floor seemed clear enough but on further inspection something was strange. Octane was unconscious- something that happened to the newer recruits when experiencing the pain of bleeding out for the first time but for a seasoned veteran…

You sprint closer, lowering your weapon and ready to begin the revival process as you retrieve a syringe but a cold chill stops you just in time for a gunshot to hit right where your head was a second before. Snapping your vision to where it came from you only had just as long to react as a shadow leapt out at you from the ceiling. A spear like hand thrusts down, hitting Octavio instead of you as you roll to avoid it turning him into a death box in an instant. The cold laugh you’d heard from the dropship fills the air and in that moment you briefly know fear as Revenant rises from his place of impact, haunting amber fixed on you near obsessively. His form crackles and simmers with chaotic energy, his plating like lava fissures with red hot coals for eyes a clear indication his ultimate was active. The moment of hesitation to draw your weapon is all it takes for him to rush forwards, intent on bringing you down. The bullets fly wide as you panic, only a few clipping his form that otherwise would of hit his shield (it was purple, of course it would be) and before you can react further the weapon is backhanded from you and sent sliding across the floor. You yelp and block the next attack, realizing that he intended to make this as up close and personal as possible which just so happened to entail making it painful too. 

The block stops his immediate attack, hands already formed in long blades which you grapple with if only to stop Revenant from trying to pierce your throat. “There’s still time to run,” he croons, pushing against the grapple you were struggling to maintain, faceplate too close for comfort with his vast height advantage over you. Your arms begin to buckle and tremble, unable to keep up with his superior metal and synthetics but with a glare you throw the retort right back at the assassin. 

“Running would imply you’ve won this round. You haven’t.” 

Powering up your gauntlets, they begin to hum as you release the grapple aiming for a low sweep to knock the assassin off balance and follow through with your tactical- an electromagnetic pulse which forces him back into the far wall, granting you some distance. The blow strikes true, just enough to back him against the wall as you finally turn the tables and go in for the attack. Reversing the polarity on your pull the robot is brought right back towards you before he could recover from the daze, a kick to the chest staggering Revenant into the window and through it only for bullets to finish the job. The wraith like visage evaporates on impact with the glass as it shatters outwards, dark smoke vanishing to wherever he came from with a furious snarl. 

Wattson from outside waves upwards as you peer carefully outside, giving a nod before gesturing towards the nearest respawn up north, hoping to get out before the assassin came knocking again.

\--

The banner had been grabbed but with the ever encroaching ring there had been no time to retrieve your teammate leaving Octane a small banner in your pocket. You felt bad but it was too risky to try the ring in round 3, Wattson and yourself on high alert. It was a good thing too because your hunter still hadn’t made a second appearance yet and you still hadn’t seen his squad either. The kill feed hadn’t displayed them as eliminated, so wherever they were, they were likely biding their time. 

The ring had pulled you southwest to the lava fields and the planet harvester, the updraft wafting an unpleasant smell of brimstone and sulphur as you guarded the very top level of the newly added structure. One squad had already fallen to the traps of the talented defender Wattson while others had dropped to your sharp aim with a Sentinel. Despite being down one neither of you were lacking kills nor damage and you were sure to get quite a bit of attention afterwards providing your luck continued. 

As with all scenarios though, the Murphy law applied.

You heard him first this time, electronic pulses sent out in the place he was before Revenant leaps from his place on the roof, twisting in the air to avoid the same things that had lead to him getting killed him earlier in his shadowed state. Landing low to duck the ensuing gunfire the rest of his squad appeared to contest your place and within seconds the entire situation burst into chaos. Bloodhound and Caustic were keeping Wattson busy seemingly on purpose, drawing her away to the other side of the platform and you realized slowly it was all to force you to fight the assassin alone. The entire thing had been set up carefully, letting you create your own grave as they had observed from a distance with sniper scopes of their own. Each squad you’d fought had served as test subjects to observe your defences and best target each member. At least this time you were slightly better equipped…

You could only fire and duck behind cover as Revenant returned your volley of shots across the long hallway, their speed and unusual movements making it incredibly hard to hit. He knew all your movements, anticipating what you had planned from last time and with every other squad you had faced. Frustrated you glared daggers, resorting instead to push against the assassin and hope for the best. Half of his shield melted from the initial assault but you suffered for it, flinching from the pain and the noise, most of yours shaved off with an aggravated shout from the robot. Refusing to back down you resorted to hand to hand, aiming for joints to force Revenant into a corner. 

Each hit or kick didn’t seem to do as much as you hoped, guns abandoned in favor of blocking the assault from each side. The way he moved was… Unnatural, snake like as his abnormally thin and long limbs deflected the attacks to his helm or chest to a shoulder or leg. His attacks however were far more visceral, like a caged animal made of metal it bruised your flesh and despite the armor left cuts that you knew would need a dermal regenerator to heal after the match. Breaths became ragged trying to keep up with the machine that never seemed to tire, eyes burning into you with such intensity it alone felt like a dagger on your chest. A yelp from behind you thought was your critical mistake, your exchange to blows coming to an end with a metal fist to the side of your face followed through with a knee joint to the stomach.

It had you doubling over seeing double and tasting a mixture of bile and blood, thanking whatever gods there were that your constitution was strong enough to not vomit right there and then in front of your (likely) soon to be killer. High pitched ringing fills your ears as your own knees hit the floor vision still swimming from that last hit to the head, finally subdued and at the mercy of this robot who had finally bested you. ‘Yep, gonna need to visit Ajay after this match’, you muse distantly as your head is grasped harshly and forced to look at Revenant as he kneeled to your height. ‘I think that last hit gave me a huge concussion. Maybe brain damage.’

Revenant only gazes at you for a moment, taking in your battered form with his version of a sneer. You can hear gunshots ensuing in the background still, Wattson still somehow keeping the rest of the team back, as expected from the genius that she was. He drops your head, whatever examination seemingly done and a sharp kick to your side has you yelping in agony as you try to curl up into a ball to protect yourself. It’s only met with arrogance and disgust, shooting your leg to make you scream. White dots flare in your eyes, tears welling as he kneels again only to press against the bullet hole.

“…I wish I could have more time with you,” Revenant rumbles, watching with some kind of pleased satisfaction as your form writhed under his touch. “So many different kinds of pain. So many screams. It’s been fun hunting you.”

Another kick to the side as you coughing up blood this time- you’re pretty sure some ribs have fractured or broken entirely.

You try desperately to blast him away but your arm is crushed under his foot and held there, your gritted expression being saved to memory for later recollection. He laughs lowly, the sound resonating from his throat and chest with a faint static. The sound of an explosion not far away makes him look and sigh, standing up to his full height and looking towards his team. “To be continued. It’s been fun…” 

An arc star flies out of nowhere, hitting the mech square in the throat carving through the crimson scarf that adorned his head. The garbled sound Revenant makes is nothing compared to the shrieking noise that happens when the electronic blast hits with the explosion, creating a small crevice from shoulder to chest that had exposed the intricate wiring and insides which kept him alive. The sound was terrible, earsplitting as he flailed and grasped at the damage trying to stop the leaks which poured from severed tubes. You took the moment instead to activate your ultimate from your spot on the ground, with a pained cry bringing your clenched fist to the ground and with it Revenant. The magnetic energy forced him to the floor as though gravity itself had intensified the twitching mess of the mecha unable to get up as sparks began to fly. 

Crawling, you made it to sitting up to then kneeling, slowly stumbling to your feet with every muscle in your body protesting. Every step was done limping and whimpering but you stood over him, not caring who had thrown the arc star at this point but wiping away the trail of blood still dripping from your nose and split lip with a glare that only spoke of hatred. 

“My turn, you absolute fuck.”

At this point the only thing keeping you up was adrenaline, but you had a point to prove. There was an etiquette to uphold in the ring and this robotic nightmare had crossed the line- you were certain he was going to get reprimanded the moment the match was over but you were set on delivering your own kind of rules. With what leverage you could get from your one good leg planted firmly in the centre of his chestplate, you grab the nearest arm with as much force as a single good arm and a broken one can muster. The pain was unbearable, your lungs and throat burning from the scream that ripped from your very core as you began to tear off the bastards arm that was somewhat damaged. It felt like trying to win a tug of war against a hurricane, your vision narrowing into a blinding tunnel as everything in you sung of pain and agony. You weren’t even sure if his joints would give up first before yours but point by point, it began to give as Revenant was unable to fight back.

It felt like an eternity but in reality it was just 10 seconds, the arm was torn away from his body, and with a warcry not even Gibraltar could rival- you plunged the knife like appendage right into the chest of the assassin. 

You have no idea what happened after that.

\--

Media swarmed all over the incident that occurred during the match, remarking on the behavior of Revenant but also of you. Many of the audience were outraged that such a thing could happen on live TV but they were swiftly reminded that this was a bloodsport and while outrageous and uncouth, it was mostly permitted. Other more bloodthirsty fans were reveling in the intensity of such a moment, applauding both involved but in particular you. It was such a huge moment in the game that it was all that played (though a more censored version for prime broadcast hours) for the next few weeks as a highlight of the season among numerous others but it was clear they weren’t about to forget such a fight any time soon. 

You wished they would as afterwards you were immediately hospitalized. Your play was suspended allegedly for recovery time but you knew the real reason. They didn’t want their new player trying to enact revenge and killing you for good, ensuring this time there would be nothing left to regenerate. It wasn’t good for publicity and it certainly wasn’t good for getting new participants in an already risky bloodsport.

Wattson afterwards felt awful for not getting to you sooner but as soon as you were in good enough condition to have visitors you spend hours reassuring her that she had done wonderfully. The arc star she had thrown was the turning point of the entire encounter and you were endlessly thankful for her efforts. It didn’t stop her however from gifting you a nessie plushie decorated with a little electromagnetic backpack you wore, something you proudly displayed on your desk the moment you were released from intensive medical care.

During the entire path of your recovery you expected the same assassin who had caused this to come creeping into your room to finish the job but as of yet… Nothing had happened. You hadn’t even crossed his path once during the entirety of your return to the dropship dorms and beyond that you weren’t even sure if he was even on the dropship anymore. People were pretty harshly punished by the syndicate if they bent or broke rules during a public match, even if it wasn’t live broadcast. Some had been outright booted from the games even with the recommendation of the higher ups having placed them there originally. 

It was when your sick leave came to an end that things started getting weird. 

You hated Revenant, but when you finally returned to live competitions (much to the anticipation of your newly gained fans, you were sure Wattson had been paired with you on purpose) he was nowhere to be seen around you. You always felt watched but not once did you see the shadowy form of the robot, nor a single glance of his amber optics. He’d become a ghost, evading you entirely in the ring. It was outside of the ring that you encountered him for the first time since your horrid match together.

You’d almost ran into him, stopping just short of the assassin and only now did you realize just how much he towered over you. A good foot in height at least, his skull like face gazing down at you with an unreadable expression. A cocktail of emotions threatened to spill out but instead of giving in to fear you seized it right before it could surface and instead smothered it with cold and fierce hatred. Neither of you moved, stoic masks worn on each side before he broke line of sight first, walking past with an undisguised noise of disgust. Turning to watch him go however, you noticed his movements weren’t as fluid as they once were with a satisfaction that floated more towards the smug side. Not a single rude comment or refusal to budge like he used to before. 

You walked backwards to your destination, eyes locked on the back of Revenant until he vanished from site, mechanical footsteps fading into the distance. It wasn’t much, but it was progress. 

You quietly unchecked yourself from the assassin’s bully list as you made your way towards your original destination.

\--

Things only got weirder after that after HQ was certain Revenant was no longer hungering for your blood. Whenever you were placed on teams together there was a silent vow that neither of you were to get in each other’s way, the poor third having to choose between a murder robot and the person who had slain the murder robot that one time. It wasn’t uncommon for them to pick Revenant if only to not incur his wrath should they think you were better. You didn’t mind, you didn’t want anybody to experience what you had. The hate faded to bitterness and eventually neutrality, if peppered with a touch of cautiousness.

The stiff professionalism you addressed each other with lingered for some time, creating bizarrely the most successful matches of the new season. Half way into the season the hate had faded into reluctant acceptance. Corridor passings were no longer standoffs but more awkwardly silent moments of time where neither wanted to talk. You caught him watching you go multiple times, gazing briefly over his shoulder to watch you go by for unknown reasons. He never spoke, only observed you pass by even when you sat in the public cafeteria to eat. You admit, you had a weird way of eating or should you say prioritizing how you ate things, systematically ordering which thing was eaten in what order which is probably why he stared.

The worst tasting thing was always eaten first and as fast as possible. If it was truly awful it was sometimes mixed with mediocre things to make it taste better. The next part you systematically went through each bit from ‘meh’ to your most favorite thing on the plate. The best was ALWAYS saved until last, and savored with the smallest of mouthfuls with either tiny spoons for desserts or forks for savory meals. Sunday roasts the cafeteria did was the Most Organised Meal of all. It was also the tastiest, so when Octane tried to steal the chicken from your meal, you were ready to stab him in the offending hand that dared grace your plate. He learned very quickly after that to definitely not touch your food.

It was when you were eating a particularly intricate and rarer candy that you caught Revenant outright staring at you from his spot against the wall the opposite side of the cafeteria. Sometimes he just lingered like a ghost, observing the legends for some reason. You had a theory he liked making people nervous but in this case he didn’t seem particularly threatening. You held his stare while continuing to nibble away, enjoying every last bite until you were done and standing to empty your tray of cutlery. 

You walk by slowly, the vaguest sense of a smile on your face like a cat that had got the cream. 

“For a robot, you have a weird obsession with staring at people as they eat. Is this your new strat after failing last match?”  
He looks at you with what you can only assume is a robotic version of a withering glare. It’s nothing what it used to be and the knowledge of that is confusing. You were sure he’d be far angrier at that remark, no longer afraid of Revenant anymore. You usually liked to barb him with words as soon as you hit the ground and met him on an enemy team. Recently though he’d almost been… Mellower? Less aggressive? It was hard to describe in words you had currently swirling around in your brain.

“…You reminded me of a rat, enjoying scraps off the floor that a passerby had dropped.” He rasps, armor flaring passively to regulate his internal temperature. That earns a frown, knowing the quiet hiss coming from his armor well- you’d worked with him on and off in the ring. He’d been standing still without moving, his temperature couldn’t be high at all… 

It confuses you so much you forget to shoot back a reply, frowning at Revenant with a squint which has him flaring defensively, something that was a rarity all on its own. Eventually you remember to speak up, replying with a weak retort.

“Whatever. If you wanna get off to people eating food the holonet exists. Freak…” You mutter the last part under your breath, shifting on your feet and wandering back to your dorm room. 

The weirdest part is that if you had lingered, you would have heard no further reply from the robot in question.


	2. Chapter 2

The highlights from when you’d thoroughly defeated Revenant using his own arm stuck around for a very long time and while the assassin despised it at first; you had kept proving yourself a force of nature in the ring over and over again. 

Sure the initial moment had boosted your view count into the millions, giving the fanbase a reason to pay attention to one of the newer and quieter legends but you had maintained the momentum since and showed the fans why you were someone to never count out. The livecam covering your angle alone in matches was up in the hundreds of thousands, higher than even Octane or Bangalore.

Ever since the fight it was as though a switch had been flipped- or were you doing this well the entire time? Defence legends never had high damage counts but you’d made a point of sending a message. You weren’t going to tolerate anyone’s shit, especially not a moody 3 century old murder robot created by the sponsor of the current Apex Games, even if you were somewhat on good terms now. It sent everyone into an excited frenzy the moment the two highest kill count legends stepped onto the drop platform together, and HR knew it so what happened afterwards was of great interest to everybody.

A playful rivalry had started the moment they were on the same team. Revenant still terrified just about everyone but you, using it to his advantage and rattling his armour with an unholy hiss at the nearest enemy squad the moment the jump platform started lowering, while you just watched on unfazed. At one point it would have gotten a reaction- now it just made you laugh. This time around it was duos, and both of you were grateful for the lack of a third.

“Dropzone approaching, prepare for the drop,” the artificial announcer on the ship blared in the background, loud enough to hear over the sound of highspeed winds and eye watering cold. Focusing up, you were already looking at the map and assessing the dropship’s path across worlds edge. It was a far right line, favouring the more loot heavy zones but also making the more distant areas a hard place to reach if you weren’t a skilled jumpmaster. You sighed with a shrug, closing the holographic map on your wrist display and walked over to the assassin currently watching squads prepare for the drop. Your teammate today had opted for his ram skull skin leaving others nervously glancing your way.

“Ready for me to beat you again?” You grin, arms crossed. Revenant laughs at the statement, a harsh and cruel sound as he draws himself up to full height.

“You? You don’t stand a chance.”

“12 kills.”

“20.”

A smirk paints your face at how sure he sounds, the low reverberation in his tone telling you just how eager he was to win.

“Ooooh. Big man finally trying to get that 20 bomb? We’ll see about that,” you can’t help but shoot back, loving the pre match banter. Nobody else was allowed to do this but you, and you revelled in it. “That’s 10 whole squads you’d have to get in a lobby of 30 teams, you really think you can outpace me after last time?” 

Revenant paces closer, armour flaring out to make himself look bigger (not that he needed it) and amber optics whirring in the way they did only when he was excited to start his murder spree. “When i’m done there won’t be a single skinsuit left alive. Think you can keep up with that?”

You reach up and pat his skull like cheek condescendingly (which weirdly he allows), moving to the very edge of the platform. “Guess we’ll just have to see won’t we? I only accept winners on my squad.” Drawing your thumb across your throat much like Revenant had done to you once before, you flip it into a middle finger last second, before jumping off into the landscape below. The sound of your laugh seems to linger, the Simulacra pacing like a lion for the dropship to pass his chosen location.

\--

“You’re all dead!” was all that crackled through the comm link, Revenant’s kill count currently at 13. 

You weren’t far behind, your 10th victim currently on the floor as two other squads heard the gunfire in Drill Site and came running. It was now a party of 5 other people trying to gun each other down and you were pinched in the middle, the sniper tower being all that separated you from the rest of the group down below. You could barely get in a shot from your wingman without a glancing blow coming awfully close to where your head peaked up. Distantly you could hear explosions in the far off area of the city which could only mean your skeleton teammate was awfully close by.

You glance over to the only other person in the snipers nest, a nobody currently hanging onto dear life with a blue knockdown shield active and facing your direction. A wry look pulls at your expression much to their horror, the power in your magnetic gauntlets humming to life.

“Sorry. I have a bet to win, and you’re number 10 on my list.”

\--

Revenant finished up in the city and arrived not long after the gunshots in Drill Site went quiet. All that remained was a variety of death boxes all colours of the viable spectrum, and you, tiredly topping up your shields sat on a deathbox with a recently looted battery. 

You knew he’d come eventually as he always does, ‘drawn to the smell of blood and fear’ as he liked to put it. You reckoned he just wanted to steal some fodder from you while you were distracted.

“Finally here, though a touch too late I’m afraid. Lagging behind there Mr.Assassin, your quarry get away in city?” 

He doesn’t reply with anything but a stubborn grunt, currently neck deep in checking the contents of the technicolor deathbox graveyard. You soon figure out why, his shields currently completely empty. He must have ran all the way here, tail between his legs as the more equipment heavy team chased him off into the meadows between Capital and Drill Site, hence the refusal to admit his retreat. A smile threatens to break out on your face as you imagine Revenant skipping through purple crocuses and daisies, an old song from long ago coming to mind. Distantly you’re aware of holo cameras beginning to gather around you two.

“I need shields. Give them to me,” Revenant demands gruffly, finding nothing left over after your plundering. It almost sounds pouty the more you turn it over in your head, the assassin stalking over to your position as though to threaten you into giving in. He stands easily a foot or two above you, every part of him a lethal machine designed perfectly to make him the apex of assassins. Having murdered him plenty of times before however, the aura of intimidation he gave off once has long since faded.   
You frown unimpressed, arms now crossed. 

“Say please.”

“Give them. Now.” He tries again, his voice laced with venom and danger. When you continue to ignore him he tries to take them by force, leading to you dancing just out of his grip.

You sigh instead, shaking your head. Your gauntlet powers up once more and before Revenant can react to the all too familiar sound he’s forced to the ground by the magnets, the gravity around his form intensified to almost painful magnitudes. You can only smile sweetly as you plant a foot square on his chest now exposed leaning down to stare him right in the face, his joints locked in place. Something you’d prepared just in case of last time, but now it served a more comical purpose.

“Sit. Good boy. One day we’ll get you working on your manners, but until then...”

You pat his helm with one hand, thumb brushing over his cheek with a smug look just like on the dropship before stepping away, his enraged snarls and death threats tuned out as you skipped away. 

“A single shield battery for your trouble. Better make it count Rev- like I said. Winners only on my team and currently you’re fighting the losing battle.”

You leave, firing off rounds into the air with a grin knowing it’ll only attract the last handful of teams still thirsty for some kills. You can still hear the strangled shouts as you leave, making the future taste of victory all the sweeter.

\--

The end of the match is tense. Only two other squads remain and it’s all circled back to Train Yard, your least favourite place on the entire map. The loot from Drill Site had tided you over thus far but with the constant poking from the ever annoying sky caravans and snipers, your resources and options were becoming incredibly limited. Not even your ult was ready, still on cooldown from before. It had been worth it though...

Another grenade raining down onto your position has you scrambling away, sliding into new cover with whatever ammo you can spare being sent right back at the culprits. Low shields and low health, no ordinance and no ult. terrible positioning being on the ground in a very vertical based area but at least you had a lot of cover on the floor to choose from. Nothing in this situation was running in your favour, not even the ring.

Then you saw a hint of black and red fly through the air. Smoke- or whatever it was, a miasma that seemed to seethe with hate.

There was only one legend that had that tactical and-

You’re pinned to a wall before you realise what’s happening, arm against your throat and a gun pointed to your skull. One of the other teams had a person drop down and finish you off, sneaking up behind you while you were distracted. Gritting your teeth you stay still, unable to do anything but wait.

“It’s really not me you should be going for right now.” You warn, eyes cold as you observe your opponent carefully. They only laugh, the cold steel of the gun digging into your temple.

“A kill is a kill. You just happened to be right where we wanted you.”

You give a half attempted shrug. 

“Well, I warned you. Say, have you met my teammate before?” You smile, glancing behind your captor purposefully. They turn pale, knowing exactly who you were paired with and turning to fight the spectre behind them they let go only to find... Nothing. Revenant wasn’t there.

The sound of your gauntlets was the last thing they heard, a soft chuckle filling the silence as your tactical reversed the situation in seconds, a punch powered with magnets sending them flying only to bring them right back when the polarity reversed and into a complete K.O. “Pfft. Idiot,” You comment idly as you watch a full squad drop from a caravan near the train tunnel. A grenade had forced them to clear out, the blast strong enough to cause the metal rope on each corner to groan and collapse onto the roof below. It’s enough distraction for this time Revenant to be the one to sneak up on you.

You nearly yelp as you turn around and collide face first into a solid metal chest flanked by a synthetic fur. Recovering from your shock you scowl up at the Simulacra, gun now pointed at him with finger off the trigger. 

“Dumbass I nearly shot you!” You growl, irritation mostly pointed inwards at letting yet another person get the drop on your (still) weakened form. You sit on the random cargo still left here from god knows what, using that little of the meds you had left.

“I take it that grenade was you?” You murmur as you let the assassin loot your handywork, feeling a little bad about earlier. His shields were nonexistent still and by the look of it he hadn’t had a chance to get anything else. Sighing, you move to stand. “I was busy with... This one,” You nudge the death box at your feet with your boot. “His teammate is somewhere above still I think.” 

More explosions have both of you perking up, Revenant peering out at the battlefield. Only now did you notice his kill count. 

19 to your 16. Bastard! 

“Stay here. These skinsuits are mine,” he interrupts your rambling with a blunt statement instead, optics glaring down at you with a thinly veiled threat. You have no time to react much like he had before, the guns in your hands ripped from your grasp and thrown far out of either of your reaches. You don’t even have a chance to squawk out a protest as your perfectly kitted weapons were tossed without a care, Revenant how pilfering your backpack for supplies. You’d fight back, but even you knew when to dial it back in when acting like a brat to this particular assassin. 

All that was left was a singular weapon in the deathbox. A P2020 with only 15 shots.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” You shout, not even caring to be quiet anymore. “You’re throwing the entire match right now! 15 shots is nothing!!!” A wheezing laugh is your only answer as Revenant starts to leave, his shadow form materialising with a strange jerk of his form, a totem rising from seemingly nothing.

“Better make ‘em count. This match is mine.”

\--

The aftermath was absolutely infuriating. Not only had he won, he’d gotten over the 20 kills too. The last 3 died to Revenant, and with you unable to engage with any serious fire power you hadn’t been able to kill steal either. The most annoying part of all is now he had that stupid 20 kill badge to add to his profile which was already being passed around on social media. He’d slapped it on the moment he got free of the press conference, ego the size of a skyscraper the moment you stepped off the transport.

You felt like screaming into a pillow at your luck, playful banter now having turned into something you know he was going to torment and remind you of every time you were on his team. 

Fuck.

You barely had time to peel out of your sweat soaked combat clothes before said bastard came knocking, giving you barely enough time to throw on some pants and a shirt before he walked inside regardless of your state.

“Man you really need manners, I didn’t say you could come in-“

“I won your deal.” He interrupts with absolute certainty, eyes glowing in the dim light of the room. The abrupt nature of the statement gives you pause. The confusion on your face must have been evident because he continues to insist further. “I killed 20 in the name of our bargain. I bested you and claimed victory- I won my place on your team, skinsuit.” He stands proudly, as though wearing a medal of the highest honour as it dawns on you what exactly he meant. He took everything literally. He REALLY thought you had such high standards to be able to join your team? You almost wanted to laugh.

“You’re my teammate now. I expect you to not ‘slip up’.”

The assassin watched you expectantly, waiting for you seemingly to confirm his statement. At this point, did you really have a choice?

“Might want to let HQ know that. Officially they decide the teams, but... I personally don’t care for their rules. We’re teammates now- you proved yourself I guess so if we ever meet in the battlefield on opposite sides, we’ll let everyone else die so we can fight it out personally. Now please fucking leave I am so sweaty and I need a shower, I don’t need you watching me when naked. OUT!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i like to call this reader knife cat reader.

“How long have you worn that damn scarf for?”

Revenant scowls as best as a skull like mask can- which isn’t much. His arms cross almost defensively across his metallic chest, ceasing the constant pacing as he liked to do when he was bored. A small smug smirk threatens to break out across your face as his optics whirled, trying to come up with some kind of smarmy comeback. The book you’d been reading was fascinating but this? Clearly there was more to this and you were delighted to find out what it was.

“It’s a cowl,” he clarifies with another attempted sneer though you could tell by the lack of venom in his vocals he wasn’t mad. He hardly ever was anymore, but that didn’t stop him from shaking his helm. “Skinsuits... You’re all the same. Can’t even tell the difference between the obvious.”

You’d become his favourite new person to irritate socialise with ever since becoming the only current legend willing to treat the assassin like a person, and even that involved kicking his ass across the map multiple times. Even Bloodhound gave you a nod of respect these days when dealing with Revenant on the battlefield which in your books was quite the high praise. Speaking of books...

You set down your novel and sat up from your comfy spot on the sofa you’d commandeered from the shared rec room. “Do I smell question avoidance?” You grin at the Simulacra. “You know that never ends well with me around. How long? And sit down; you’re like a damn house cat wanting to knock everything off the selves just because you can.”

He glowers at the comparison but indulges your request to sit, his lanky limbs taking up most of the rest of the space but you’re pretty sure that was done on purpose. While you were petty, Revenant lived for being spiteful, the quiet hiss of his internals barely audible in the room. 

“Well?”

He sighed, digits coming up to pinch at the bridge between where his eyes would be, a surprising display of a very human habit. “...30 years. Give or take.” It takes you a moment to process what exactly was just said.

“30 FUCKING YEARS!? Have you taken it off even once!?”

That earns a snarl of sharp annoyance, a hint of red swirling dangerously in his optics and armour rattling as a threat. “Of course I have!” He looms closer from his seat on the couch, voice impossibly low. “Unlike pathetic fleshbags I don’t feel the need to show off. You best remember that.”

You both remain still, frozen staring at the other, wondering what the next move would be. The irate anger was still seething quietly in Revenant and you knew you’d stepped a little too far. It must have been a sore topic somehow and while you loved pissing off Rev on the battlefield... In private was different. He trusted you in his own strange and warped way, and you didn’t really want to lose that. 

Your hand rises slowly where he can see it, optics watching the journey but not expecting it to come to rest on his skeleton like cheekbone. It almost startles the Simulacrum, the war of backing away out of pride and just staying still dancing across his vision as his eyes flicked from you to the ever so gentle touch. The armour flared previously as a threat slowly settled against his form once more, the touch starved side winning out over even his infamous temper. You say nothing when he leans into it, palm cradling his jaw line which you notice is covered in scrapes and damage.

“I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to offend; I’m just surprised at the number. Have you never replaced the fabric at all? 30 years is a lot of time for wear and tear to affect it.”

It takes a long time for him to speak again, optics closed and voice a quiet and distant rumble compared to the violent storm only mere moments ago.

“...I was lead to believe I was a skinsuit too, once. Dressed like a skinsuit. Shaved like a skinsuit.” His optics open again, gazing downward but not really seeing. “Then it all came crashing down in a single job, and I saw what I really was.” He laughs, filled with mechanical strain which has your mouth upturned in a frown. A single hand covers yours, keeping you there. 

“That was 30 years ago and the last time I felt the need to be... Human. It has no place for me.”

He lets go eventually, leaving you to trace the scratches along his jawline until the sight of stitching has you pause. It’s... Crude. Wonky in places and the thread is terribly mismatched in colour for other spots but it’s clear that some maintenance (however little) has gone into repairs across the years. The red also has spots where blood had been washed out but traces lingered in small clusters, some edges frayed and ready to come apart at a single tug of the right thread.

“...Would you like me to fix your cowl for you then?” 

\---

“So why red then?” The sound of fabric being carefully fed through a sewing machine was audible, occasionally pausing just long enough to cut a thread or unstitch something that didn’t quite sit right. Revenant was watching like a hawk, either learning or waiting for a mistake to sneer at in the warm lighting of your quarters. Either way it was quite strange to see him without his signature red. He was currently using a scarf of yours to cover up, a simple black framing his bone white faceplates with his crimson jaw just barely peeking through. A smile subconsciously pulled at the corner of your mouth, eyes focused. It’d been awhile since anything needing mending this much came across your workspace but it was a nice challenge. Once the stitching was secure and the edges hemmed, cleaning and re-dying was in order- if the skeleton over your shoulder let you. You were lucky he let you iron it before getting to work.

The question earns you a look of quiet confusion until he realises just what exactly you are referencing to. Revenant snorts, his attitude returning. “It’s easy to wash out the stains of blood. What did you expect?” The scrawp of a chair being pulled up against metal flooring has you pause curiously, glancing over just long enough for him to notice.

“Well I figured that much, there’s a reason I don’t wear that much colour in my combat outfits.” You idly mention, shifting enough so he could watch again. “But not everything has to be practical y’know?” 

He sneers at the thought but falls into watching you work again, almost entranced by the sureness and rhythm of your craft. Old stitching was carefully undone with a tool that looked like a very small curved knife he immediately picked up once you were done, turning it deftly in his digits as though imagining what carnage he could cause with it. It’s set back down soon after with a noise of disgust, clearly not meeting his standards. “This is the most pathetic knife i’ve ever seen,” he comments offhandedly, now playing with the sewing pins that were stabbed into a plush cargo bot that fit snugly in a palm. You’d pierced them all into the gold and loot key sides, a nod to all the times you’d missed the bastards.

You don’t even look over this time, smirking to yourself. “That ‘pathetic knife’ is what professionals use, thank you very much. And it’s not meant for flesh, it’s for stitches in fabric. Like a scalpel.”

“At least with a scalpel you can still kill someone. That would be lucky to cause a single drop of blood.”

You laugh while removing another pin, adjusting the fabric just so to ensure perfect alignment of the hem. It was a surprisingly large piece of fabric, and Revenant had taken great delight in recounting all the grisly tales that had caused such damage. Some spots were missing fabric entirely and had been sewn together to hide it, the circle shapes leading you to believe they were from gunshots. You’d have to find some similar fabrics, dye them the right shade and carefully had them to the holes. That would be for another day, though. You were startled out of your thoughts and calculations however when the assassin by your side spoke up, seemingly lost in the ambience of your work.

“...I used to like red. As a human.”

\---

“It’s not entirely fixed. A lot more restoration work needs to be done, like finding suitable patches, redying it, cleaning off the spots of old blood... But it shouldn’t be a few threads from falling apart anymore. I can find the bits and pieces though in my spare time between matches,” you offer tentatively, offering the much more secure fabric back to your guest of the (now) evening. 

It’s accepted, critically examining your work but every detail is perfect. You knew it was- you never accepted anything less leaving your ‘workshop’. You turn away respectfully, allowing him to fix it back in place as though it had never been removed, the black scarf pressed back into your grasp firmly.

“Let me know if you ever want to continue this- no thanks needed either.” 

Revenant laughs cruelly at the suggestion but it’s more for show than anything. “I’ll consider it skinsuit. But only because you did a decent job.” 

You take the compliment where you can.


End file.
